


Animal Crossing and [♪] Are All That I Need

by WelpThisIsMyLifeNow



Category: Undertale (Video Game), どうぶつの森 | Animal Crossing Series
Genre: Animal Crossing: New Horizons, Canon Sans | Classic Sans (Undertale), F/M, I don't know what else to tell ya it's sans in animal crossing, Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:21:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26655793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WelpThisIsMyLifeNow/pseuds/WelpThisIsMyLifeNow
Summary: You couldn'twaitto play the new Animal Crossing. Within the first few weeks, you already had hundreds of hours beneath your belt as you attempted to craft the perfect island.When you invite a very new type of villager to your island, things start to get...strange._________A very silly fic that combines two of my favorite things. Hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Comments: 46
Kudos: 144





	1. The Perfect Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Your attention, please._   
>  _The Nook Inc. Getaway Package Charter Flight will soon be arriving at the deserted island._

Holy _shit,_ you loved this game from the second it came out. 

_Obsessed_ was what your therapist would’ve probably half-joking called it (if you had bothered to admit it during your tri-weekly sessions, that is); you’d been waiting for the game for _months,_ watching every trailer, promotional material, and analyzing theory video the internet had to offer. The universe—like some kind of game-addict drug pusher—had perfectly timed you getting laid off from your job the very _day_ before the game came out. Stuck in quarantine, stressed from the lack of income, and with the world feeling like it was set aflame outside your door…

You lost yourself into the game.

The game was pretty much your life from the time you woke up to the time you went to bed. You’d spent _hundreds_ of hours within the first few weeks—planning, laboring, restructuring. You’d taken the painstaking time to ensure every house, river, cliff face and pathway was laid out evenly. It wasn’t perfect _yet_ …

But you _swore_ by the strings of KK Slider’s guitar, one day, it _would_ be.

Currently, your ongoing focus was to make sure you had all the villagers you wanted. Yesterday had _finally_ marked your victory over the weird mouse with the five o’clock shadow as he left your town for good. You knew it didn’t make a difference, but you had thwapped that bastard every day with your net until he _finally_ crammed the hint through his massive ears and offered to leave. The _nerve_ of that rat for moving into your near-perfect island paradise; he should’ve been crawling in a sewer where he belonged from day one. 

Not that you were emotionally involved in video game characters, or anything. _Totally_. 

Now free from the weight of that monstrosity weighing you down, you woke up and eagerly turned on your switch, practically vibrating with excitement as you unlocked the screen. Forgoing your morning routine (both in real life and in the game— _damn_ , did you have to pee, but that would have to wait), you rocketed your character to the airport and sped your way through the series of text bubbles until you were on your way to a random mystery island. You were _so ready_ for a fresh face in your town; there were still a few “dreamy” characters you were eager to get, and if you just happened to _luck_ into one... 

The island you went onto was one of the common, standard ones—no especially good resources to salvage, but you didn’t care. You vaulted yourself over a river and climbed up a cliff wall in olympic-record time, spotting the campfire that signaled a villager was nearby. _Yes!_ You ran towards it, catching sight of a blue sweatshirt-

_Uh, what in Tom Nook’s good name is this?_

The… animal _(?)_ turned towards your screen. You attempted to blink your eyes free of any obstruction, learning closer towards your switch to make sure you were seeing the character properly. At first, you wondered if it was some kind of penguin with a nose you couldn’t make out, or maybe a bear with its ears missing—but, _nope._ Something akin to a cartoony skeleton wandered among the tall grass. It’s face was vaguely human-like but more rounded than a normal skeleton’s head, with white… _pupil-things_ suspended in the middle of black sockets. 

Was… this some kind of special event, or something? It was currently April; nowhere _near_ Halloween. 

Well, only one thing to do: time to introduce yourself.

Running up to the skeleton, you tapped to initiate a conversation. 

“heya, pal. the name’s sans. it’s nice to meetcha.” It was weird—there was speech-like sound (a low, kind of dumb-sounding reptitive tone) as it spoke, but its mouth didn’t move at all. _Maybe it’s supposed to be a mask?_ You advanced the text.

“i’d shake your hand if i could, but, uh, that doesn’t seem like a possibility. nice island, huh?”

The conversation then ended. Your thumbs flicked your character back and forth idly as you thought it over. _Weird. Kind of an odd intro message, but seems to be the standard kind for the villagers you can invite. No mention of any kind of event._

Deciding to do a bit of research, you put down your switch, replacing it with your phone as you got up to do your _actual_ morning routine. After you got the necessities out of the way and started cooking your breakfast (the same meal you’d been had every morning of quarantine—two eggs over medium, doused with ketchup and sandwiched between two slices of the cheapest bread you could find)—you took to the trusty internet to find more info this odd villager. 

Oddly enough, your search turned up… _nothing_.

Your search began out obvious (“ _sans animal crossing_ ”), to more general (“ _skeleton animal crossing_ ”—only mentions of the halloween items here), to flat-out broad (“ _new animal crossing characters?_ ”). You’d made it a point to learn as much as there was _to_ know about the new characters during the months leading up to the release, and no mention of _anything_ like this villager had been made.

Midway to through your breakfast, an obvious thought slapped you:

_Maybe they just didn’t announce a new villager type. Am I the first person to find it?_

A sense of giddiness instantly overtook you. Dusting off crumbs onto your pj’s, you instantly picked up your switch again, bringing it back to life. As soon as Sans was back on the screen, you used your phone to take some quick pictures, along with some better screenshots from the switch itself you’d upload later. You immediately went to your go-to animal crossing message board, posting the pictures from your phone as quickly as your crappy internet would allow. 

You quickly typed out a post, entitling it _“New villager???”,_ along with the few details of him you had so far before posting. It was _totally_ possible you were making Animal Crossing history here.

Dropping your phone, you picked back up the switch. Honestly, when you had first seen this weird skeleton, you _knew_ it wasn’t the type of villager to fit in with your island’s aesthetic. It wasn’t, say, _five o’clock shadow mouse_ bad, but definitely _far_ from a dreamy. 

However, if you were the _first_ person to have it… You _knew_ there would be someone willing to pay big, fat stacks of nook mile tickets ( _abbreviated as NMT on the various trading sites you visited_ ) for it. Even if it wasn’t cute, there was undoubtedly someone with an edgy or horror-themed town that would _kill_ for a skeleton-themed villager. With that cash, you could _definitely_ trade the payout for one—maybe even _two_ of your dreamies.

_Oh, man, I’m gonna be swimming in NMT. Suck it, nook miles rewards program._

Sans was still standing close by when you went back in. You quickly reinitiated conversation, ready to welcome this golden ticket into your ~~nook bank account~~ life.

“what’s that? you want me to move to your island? seems kind of fast for a guy to move for someone he’s just met.”

At first, you were a little worried that the dialogue meant it— _he,_ judging by the text—would flat-out refuse to move to your island. However, as usual when inviting a villager, a bubble popped up with two dialogue options for you to pick from.

> _Better than being stuck here, isn’t it?_

_ >Nevermind. You’re probably right not to move in with a stranger. _

Clearly, the first was a “yes, move in,” and the second a “no, I’ve changed my mind.” You didn’t need time to deliberate, selecting the first option easily.

“guess you’re right, pal. let me call tom nook and make sure there’s a spot for me to put my stuff.”

You sped through the standard cutscene as he made a show of pulling out a phone and calling Tom Nook before _finally_ turning back to you:

“welp, it’s official: guess we’re gonna be neighbors. I’ll be seeing ya tomorrow, pal.”

You cheered out loud as the conversation ended, spinning your character in circles as you wiggled your feet in excitement. _Yes! Yes yes yes!!!! I have him!_

You immediately saved your game, _just_ in case, before putting the switch to sleep so you could finish your breakfast.

_Payday, here I come._

You spent the rest of your day continuing along your much larger, overarching goal of perfecting the details of your island. At _some_ point, you’d probably redo the location of the plots of the homes—the game had forced you to put a couple houses before you had access to the other parts of the island, so you’d had to make do with _slightly_ out-of-place plots.

If you thought about it, it drove you a _little_ crazy… but you’d eventually get it sorted. 

For now, your immediate focus was on your flower breeding; you had poured over over the flower guides on the internet, carefully selecting the flower that _best_ encapsulated each villager. When chosen, you had played a border of that particular flower around the villager’s home. You didn’t have a good enough feel on Sans yet to pick for him, but you _knew_ he wouldn’t match with the vomit-brown _(allegedly “orange,” but you knew better)_ hyacinths you had placed around the gross mouse’s home. Shovel in hand, it was now time for them to be dug up and sold for your ever-increasing stash of bells.

Normally you wouldn’t sacrifice flowers to those insatiable racoon twins ( _you were still trying to get that perfect island rating, after all, and needed all the flowers you could get to do it),_ but you figured it was best to have all traces of that sewer rat _gone._

It would be nice to finally replace it with a much nicer color. As you ran around your town, filling up and emptying out your inventory with flowers, you mulled a bit over what you could remember of the brief encounter with your soon-to-be resident. _Huh, I wonder what kind of character Sans is? He was wearing a sweatshirt and basketball shorts—but those sporty characters cram athletics into every bit of dialogue, and he mentioned nothing about working out._

You thought back to that… slightly unusual exchange. _Hm. Seems like he’s written with a casual accent. Maybe smug? Lazy? Probably too soon to tell. Maybe I’ll end up picking blue flowers for that sweatshirt, or white like his bones…_

Any kind of blue flower would’ve been a pain in the ass to breed; the lazy part of you just wanted to pick white for time’s sake alone, but…

If it wasn’t _him_ , it wasn’t perfect. 

And your brain wouldn’t seem to drop this game until _perfect_ is what you had.

Thoughts of the flowers—and most of your thoughts of Sans—faded as you went through the rest of your day. 

There was always so much to _do_ ; hours slipped by your fingers as you went through the various routines—talking to the villagers, searching for one of the elusive fish that would disappear at the end of the month, trying not to get gunned down by the endless invasions of wasps…

Before you knew it, it was nighttime. A rumbling in your stomach reminded you that—despite your inactivity—your body still required sustenance. You made your unsurprising dinner: angel hair pasta, _again._ One of your best friends worked in the restaurant biz and had unloaded a industrial-sized bulk box of pasta into your living room when the state quarantine had closed his restaurant kitchen’s doors. 

You were certainly grateful, and—if your Animal Crossing playstyle was evidence of anything—you were the _last_ person to complain about repetition.

As you waited for the water to boil, you remembered your post, a small burst of excitement going through you as you pulled up the forum. _Damn, I should’ve checked this earlier. Are people freaking out? If they’re like me, they’ll be going nuts-_

You quickly scrolled past the text and pictures of your post, looking at the replies-

There were only _three_. 

And they were, just about, all the same.

“ _obs fake”_

_“bad haxx 0/10”_

_“this is cute, but should be tagged as your creation, not game official content._ ”

The last one was from a moderator of the form. A _tinge_ of annoyance went through you, but you blew it out with a sigh as you put your phone on the counter. 

_Dummies. When the skeleton villager types blow up, y’all will eat crow._

You finished making—and eating—dinner, settling into your nightly routine (personal business, talking to friends, changing your pjs for some _nighttime_ pj’s, because in the past few weeks you’d developed a difference between the two). 

You slid into bed, plugging both your phone and your switch in for the night. All three of you to bed, all three of you ready to recharge for the repeat performance tomorrow.

You laid back into bed and closed your eyes.

Another day survived in quarantine, another productive day closer to your goal. You knew if you focused on it too much, the idea that _this_ was how you were using your time might be a bit… sad.

But you were enjoying it. It was keeping you afloat, it gave you purpose when the rest of the world didn’t seem to make sense.

For now, it was all you needed. For now, it was enough. 

_Time for bed. Tomorrow, my new neighbor moves in._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all and welcome to my silly fic!
> 
> I don't know if anyone will be interested in this, so if you are, please let me know! I have been waiting _forever_ to get this written; his is the first project I wanted to make some headway on after finishing my last fic. 
> 
> It's gonna be silly, it's gonna be fun, it's gonna be a bit weird! This has been a blast to write so far, and I've been planning this out for a long time so it's pretty well plotted out. I'm gonna write it regardless if I keep posting it here or not, so if you want to see it too... yeah! Just comment below. 
> 
> Hope you guys are having a good day, and staying safe out there! I've been working straight through the pandemic, but I imagine this would have straight up been my life if I hadn't been.


	2. Cold, Hard Proof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally get someone to witness this oddity.

The sun of morning roused you gently; you had slept quite a bit later than your typical early quarantine rise, but didn’t feel _quite_ as rested as normal. Sitting up in bed, you attempted to roll the ache out of your shoulders as you grabbed your switch and brought it to life. _Hm. Must’ve slept weird._

Ah, well, you could always take a nap later; time didn’t matter much nowadays, anyway. 

As you button-mashed your way past the start screen and faithful Isabelle’s morning announcement chatter, memories of yesterday resurfaced. An excited buzz sparked, helping you shake off some of the tiredness weighing on your focus. _Hey, that’s right! I get to see what Sans’s house is like! Sweet. I’ll have to take some pics for the forum._

You quickly ran to the plot of land where your mouse ex-archenemy had lived. Sure enough, when you ran over, a new house stood in place of the empty plot.

The exterior was brown, unpainted wood, with doors and windows that were fairly standard—and had a kind of odd-looking white roof you hadn’t seen before. It _almost_ looked like a fine sheet of snow on top of a brown, wooden one—but was probably just a two-toned style. _Weird._

You stepped your character up to the front door. Although you knew his house wouldn’t be set up yet—on the first day characters always had all of their things stored in boxes—you were still eager to get more pictures for the forum, as well as seeing what kind of wallpaper and flooring he had. There was a set of skeleton wallpaper and flooring (you personally had that in your basement at the moment—you’d been considering having a “haunted cellar” theme), and you wondered if Sans’s designer would have gone for the obvious choice.

Your character reached the door and gave the standard “knock knock,” then went to turn the handle as normal-

But the door didn’t open.

Instead, you watched as a speech bubble popped up, Sans’s voice replica sounding out from behind the door.

“who’s there?”

A corresponding selection bubble popped up.

>Hi! Please let me in. 

>Wooden shoe.

You stared.

This… wasn’t how things normally went. The house should _always_ open on a character’s first day there, and you’d certainly never received any kind of dialogue option when trying to enter a house before. Either the character was home and you could go in, or they weren’t and the door was locked.

You looked over your options. The second one seemed vaguely amusing, but you were worried it’d be considered taunting. You decided to play it safe instead, just wanting to get in the damn place. You picked the first option.

“sorry, pal. the place is a mess. give me some time to settle in first.”

You stood, facing the closed door for a prolonged beat. You then tried again, your character knock-knocking at the door a second time. A small bubble popped again, but this time no sound effect played as a sole ellipses came into view.

“...”

You tried again.

“...”

And again.

“...”

_...Nothing?_ Had you made the wrong choice? Or would he not let you in either way?

You _could_ just reset to see if it made a difference…

_Eh. Not worth waiting through the load screens._

You took a deep breath, accepting defeat for the time being. _I wonder if Nintendo is trying out some new relationship stuff? I guess there_ **_was_ ** _a patch recently_ … _Maybe I’ll take a look at the patch notes later._

Making the most of what you had, you snapped a couple of quick pics of the outside of his house for the forum before setting your phone aside, moving to the kitchen to go through your same real-life morning routine. Two eggs over medium, ketchup, bread—hm. You’d probably have to venture out of the house in a couple days to get some kind of vegetable. You looked off to the shelves by your door, where a small box of gloves sat. You still had about half of the box left; being a bit of a germaphobe, you’d bought them before the pandemic to make for easy clean-up when you had raw chicken. Now that they were impossible to get, you used them solely for the times you had to outside and touch things. 

Better make a list for when you went shopping; there was no going back for anything you’d forgotten.

...But that could come later.

As you waited for the eggs to cook, you grabbed your phone and posted the pictures—this time, instead of a separate post, you attached it as a reply to the moderator with a quick message. _“It’s not original content. Here’s his house. If you like, we can meet up and I’ll show you.”_

As you turned back to your cooking, you hummed to yourself. _Hm. Maybe if they agree I’ll wait until the next day to have them come over. If Sans doesn’t answer, it’ll look suspicious. Hopefully he’ll be out and about on the island like normal tomorrow._

You spent the day doing some of your routines—more tending to your flowers, racking up bells and nook rewards points, and chatting or running favors for your villagers. Here and there you’d try Sans’s door again—only to be met with the same old ellipses taunting you.

Feeling slightly… unsettled, you decided to use your anxious energy to make your list and go to the store. You _hated_ the task more, perhaps, than any other part of adulting even _before_ the pandemic had started. Now, with a combined fear of germs and the general air of intense stress that permeated all of the public spaces you went to, the task felt more like you were attempting to handle radioactive material in a junked-together hazmat suit than selecting out your daily fruit and veg. Best to get it over with. 

You got showered, and dressed in normal clothes ( _as if any sense of ‘normal’ mattered anymore)_ and made your way to the store. As expected, the trip was stressful but largely uneventful; only about half the items on your list were in stock, but you took what you could get. 

You got back home, showered _again_ , put your groceries away, and then cleaned. 

Then, _finally,_ you were back to the game

You tried Sans’s door just once after that. Still no answer.

You spent the night mostly expanding the small “orchard” you’d designed with all the different types of fruit you managed to collect. It was a steady, secure money maker (if you were willing to dedicate the space and time to it). 

By the time the sweet evening music began to play—signaling it was probably time for bed soon—you’d forgotten once again about the post. Once you had finished up everything you wanted to do for the day, you checked the forum. The mod had responded, this time sending you a DM.

“I guess we can meet up. I’ve got work tonight, so we’ll have to do it tomorrow. I don’t like my time being wasted, though. If this is bunk, please back out now, or we may have to suspend you from the forums.

-Mod X”

You rolled your eyes, both at the slightly curt message and the name. _‘X’, really?_

Humming in thought, you typed out your acceptance, making sure to sound as polite as possible. You then finished replying to your other friends’ messages before settling in for the evening. It was a bit of a chilly night, and you gladly slid under the covers as you got into bed, a deep yawn taking over you. Even if you had just gone to the store today, you felt more ready for sleep than usual.

Closing your eyes, you keyed into the warmth of your bed, thoughts drifting to your meeting tomorrow and the punitive threat from the moderator. 

_Guess I’d be a little salty too if I had a bunch of trolls demanding my attention all the time. Still, it’ll be nice to watch them eat their words when they see Sans._

An image of that shut door then flashed into your mind, and a _small_ spike of worry went through you.

_Well… If he opens the door, that is. I’m sure it’ll be alright, though. Time to finally get this rolling._

The next morning, you woke up feeling like _shit_.

You practically had to use your hand to lift up your eyelids, your exhausted brain feeling foggy. Doing your best to sit up in bed, you—for once—grabbed your phone before your switch and checked the time. 

You’d already slept until nearly _noon_.

As you rubbed your eyes, a thought slammed you: _Wait, these aren’t symptoms, are they…?_

After a heart-palpitating moment, you took a pause to calm yourself. _Hey. No fever. No cough. Go have breakfast, make sure your taste and smell are fine_ — _but it’s honestly unlikely for it to come on this quickly, right? You’re just tired. Probably slept weird._

You took a breath, taking a brief pause to feel your forehead, _just_ to be certain—and no, it was fine. Deciding for _once_ that the game could wait, you did your real-life morning routine first. Sure enough, your breakfast smelled and tasted just as it had every day in this seemingly endless loop of time. Crisis averted.

Now having a much more calm breakfast lunch, you plopped down on the couch, pulled out your phone, and checked the forum. Sure enough, “X” had responded, setting a time—3 PM your time, just a few hours from now—to meet up. Good. 

You sent a message saying that was fine, quickly finishing your meal before going back to your Switch. _That’s right; I need to make sure Sans is actually visible and not just a series of “...”’s._

You launched the game, tapping past Isabelle’s morning announcements before arriving at your house. Same as yesterday, you quickly naurto’d your way to Sans’s house. The lights were on—same as last time—indicating he was there.

Your character walked up to the door, knock-knocking.

To the sparking of your dread, a speech bubble popped up.

“who’s there?”

>Hi! Please let me in. 

>Wooden shoe.

_Huh. Same as last time. That’s… not great, but I suppose it’s nice to get a second chance at this._ This time, you picked the second option. Another speech bubble popped up.

“wooden shoe who?”

>Wooden shoe like to let me in?

>I’ve changed my mind, I’m leaving.

You were _deeply_ tempted to pick the second option, but took a deep sigh, and selected the first choice.

“ah, i see you’re someone of class. well, the place is a bit of a mess, but i suppose you can come in.”

_Seriously?_

As the screen loaded, you idly tapped your thumbs on the buttons. _Hm. Either there are right and wrong choices here, or maybe it just made me wait until he was done unpacking._

The interior came into view. Instead of the bones you expected, there was a _garish_ blue-and purple zigzag rug with maroon walls. Perfecting the eye-bleeding look, a vibrant green couch sat up against a wall, a small TV placed a few feet away opposite. _Ugh_. 

There only seemed to be a few other things in the room—a mattress, an exercise bike, some kind of shelving that you’d find in a garage, and… papers on the floor?

You were deeply confused. You were pretty sure lazy villagers were messy (check) but typically had dirt flooring (uncheck), sporty characters typically had equipment (check) but had that constant need to remark on their sportiness (uncheck), and the smug characters often had a bit more of an interesting chatting type (check) but usually had stylish homes ( _definite uncheck)_ . Maybe cranky? He definitely seemed a bit standoffish, but at the same time… it didn’t seem anything like your other cranky villagers. _Super_ weird. Maybe he was new both in the “animal” category and “personality” types? 

Some kind of weird… hybrid… 

You stepped up to Sans—he had a cute little mug of coffee in his hand—and initiated a conversation.

“hey, thanks again for inviting me here. seems like a nice island so far.” 

_Hm. Pretty standard greeting._ You advanced the text. 

“so, whatcha think of my place? it might not be perfect, but it’s home.”

>I like it. It’s… cozy.

>What’s with the mess?

You tilted your head, studying the screen. Obviously the second choice was the mean one—you kind of missed the days where that meant they’d be mean _back_ ; in this version, none of the islanders seemed to have a _real_ spine or personality. In theory, you _could_ choose to be an asshole and have no real consequences.

But… Sans wasn’t an affront to nature like your archenemy mouse. Even if there were no consequences, there was no need to be nasty. You chose the first option.

“heh. yeah? i’m surprised. seems like ya keep this island nice and tidy—i figured this wouldn’t fit in.”

As the dialogue ended and he casually walked away from you, you were left paused. _Hm. That… could be construed as a little feisty there. Well, I suppose if anyone would have a spine, it’d be a skeleton._

You then pursed your lips as you directed your character out of the house, only _slightly_ annoyed at your brain for the mild pun. Sans gave you a small, simple wave with his free hand as you exited.

_Also weird. Even the cranky villagers give you a pretty enthusiastic goodbye wave when you leave._

You quickly moved through your daily routine, trying to get the essentials done in the few hours before the mod came. All too soon, the clock rolled to three—and sure enough, you felt your phone buzz with a DM notification. It was the mod X, asking for a code to go to your place.

_Shit, I forgot about that part._ Ditching your flower-watering midway through, you ran to the airport, desperately mashing through the Dodobird’s extended series of text—before, of course, accidentally selecting the wrong option in your haste and having to start all over again.

_These fucking walls of text_ — _my sweet birds, I so appreciate your hard work and dedication, but for the love of Amelia Earhart please just give me the code. I dunno how long this person is gonna wait._

As soon as he gave you the code—you _nearly_ clicked past it—you quickly sent it to ‘X’. 

It felt like you had just hit “send” when the screen popped up that “X” from “Z” island was taking off for their flight to your island. _Oof, I guess they were waiting around for me. Hopefully they’re not too grumpy when they get here. Although… X from Z island? Doesn’t sound like the most creative human out there._

You quickly grabbed your phone as the screen loaded, switching to the Nintendo app so you could text in the game (versus using the stoneage in-game keyboard they had). You quickly typed out a welcome, hitting “send” as soon as the loading scene stopped.

They were dressed in a casual, unflashy set of jeans and a sweater—a stark difference to the astronaut-pirate-magician look you had going on. Their face and hair was neither particularly feminine or masculine—leaving you little hint to guess what gender (if any) they were. You supposed it didn’t matter; they quickly stepped up to you with little fanfare, clearly here for business.

“Hi. Where is it?” 

Trying not to take the curt greeting personally, you quickly typed back on your phone. 

“Follow me!” 

There. Not dickish, but straight to the point. You grabbed your switch again, steering your character right to Sans’s home, thankfully located not too far from the entrance to your island.

Coming upon it, you saw the windows were dark—which ( _shoot_ ), meant he wasn’t home. Ah, well; you could look for wherever he was in a bit, but you knew you should show X this solid piece of evidence before their patience ran out. 

You ran in small circles in front of Sans’s door, enacting the universal wordless “look here!” dance. You watched as their character ran up to the front door, inspecting the sign. They then turned back to you, their character idly swaying as they typed. You realized your knee was uncontrollably bouncing; this was it! _Finally_ , you’d get the earthbreaking freakout you deserved-!

“Wow, guess you weren’t kidding. Let’s find it.”

You nearly threw your Switch. _Seriously?! ‘Wow?’ That’s it?!_

Taking a deep breath, you shook it off, preparing to run off—when another text bubble popped up. 

“I’ll buy it from you. Trade you 200 NMT.”

You laughed aloud, feeling a small surge of triumph. _Well, finally, it starts. At least they recognize that this is gonna be worth something._ You quickly typed back, unable to stifle the smug smile on your face.

“Lol no deal, sorry. I know I could get a much better trade later, no offense.”

“Ok. Fair. Let’s find it.”

You wiggled slightly in your seat on the couch; as a mod, they could’ve probably been a dick about your refusal, and maybe said they weren’t going to back you up—you were glad they were just rolling with it. Maybe they’d make you another, better offer later. _NMT, here I come!_

X and you quickly took off, X’s character following you around as you winded your way around the island. You took it horizontally—first running through the stretch of beaches, then moving up a screen or so, and running back the other way, moving past stretches of houses, the plaza, your orchard, your flower field…

Eventually, X and you split up, deciding to cover more ground.

When that turned up nothing, you both searched the different interiors—the museum, the shops, the different houses, even your _own_ house. 

But… you couldn’t find Sans _anywhere._

You even, in your desperation, wrote out a plea into the ether: 

“Sans! Sans the villager come here! Please!”

You were hoping it would, at least, make X laugh. It did not.

Just as you were about to suggest taking drastic action—like trying to change the time, hoping he’d be in house at a later time or something—you suddenly got the cutscreen that X was leaving.

_What the hell? Did they get disconnected or something?_

You quickly pulled up your DM with X on your phone, shooting over a message.

"Hey, get disconnected? I’ll keep the code up.”

You went to get your flowerpot out—hoping you’d be able to sneak in some flower-watering time before they arrived again—when your phone buzzed at your hip with a message back from X.

“I can’t believe I allowed you to waste my time. It’s obviously a hacked house. I have to give you credit, tho. So far the hacks have mostly been star trees and the like, not a house. Hope the suspension was worth it.”

You tried to send a message back. You were met with an error message, stating your account had already been locked.

_No! Nonono, you asshole!_

You let out a frustrated scream, throwing your phone against the arm of the couch. You missed, and ended up hitting the wall instead—and, yep, you cracked the screen. _Fantastic._

_Eat shit, X. When I finally get you to fucking believe me I’m gonna send you the bill for my screen._

Tossing your phone (this time much more gently) onto your couch, you laid back into the cushion. You moved your character back towards Sans’s house and stood in front of it, looking at the thing.

_If only they had an emote to shake your fist at something. This is just as much your fault as it is X’s. I swear, the next time I see you-_

You watched as Sans stepped out from _behind_ his house, a little music note dancing beside his skull as he casually strolled into view.

_Are you fucKING KID_ **_DING M E -_ **

You ran up to him, initiating dialogue. Even if you couldn’t yell at him—and even if he had no idea what had just happened—you wanted to hear what he had to say for himself.

“heya, pal. seems like ya brought over a friend, huh? x from z village?”

You suppressed a growl in your throat, knowing that growling at inanimate objects was probably just a hair trigger away from a symptom to a serious problem. It was a typical thing for a villager to say after someone came to your town, anyway. You smashed the button to advance the text, your frustration wanting the dumb conversation to end just as much as you’d wanted it to begun-

“i thought i heard my name being called, but looks like i missed out. sorry i didn’t get to meet them.”

You paused, freezing as your thumb hovered over the button to continue the text, and instead took a screenshot.

_What…?_

Was that just a weird coincidence, or… Did the software recognize when you typed someone’s name? 

For a moment, you had a weird cold sweat prickle at your skin, the feeling eerie—but, after a beat, you supposed it wasn’t so weird.

_I guess they had the bullhorn in the old game that you could use to call out villager’s names. If they have voice recognition, text recognition would be a piece of cake. Nothing weird about that._

Feeling _slightly_ less unsettled at the rationalization, you progressed the text.

“yeah, too bad i wasn’t at home.”

You were slightly startled as Sans’s face animated—so used to that unaltering grin—as he winked.

“i was behind it.”

You stared, your mouth falling agape. 

_He_ **_was_ ** _fucking hiding on purpose, that little fucking shit, I can’t believe it-!_

Having little other out for your frustration, you instantly switched out to your net—so well practiced from the days spent whacking that stupid mouse—and quickly took a calculated swing at Sans-

And he stepped to the side, missing the swing. 

A dialogue box popped up from him, startling you—the characters always allowed you to get a few hits in before calling you out, just in case it was an accident, but Sans’s dialogue cut immediately in:

“well, pal, that’s not very nice.”

You progressed the text, wanting the lecture to be over.

“but then again… i also heard something about a **trade**. that doesn’t seem very nice either.”

You felt your stomach crash to your feet, nailing you to your couch. Sans’s grin was still there—but, suddenly, it didn’t seem so friendly.

"maybe you’re just not a nice person.”

The dialogue window disappeared, and Sans walked off back behind his house. Acid churning in your gut, you immediately went to follow, wanting to talk to him again-

But he was gone. Tilting the camera up, he wasn’t behind the house, or anywhere else. 

Just… disappeared.

_What the everloving fuck?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oop, seems like we've gotten off on the wrong foot here with more than just X...
> 
> Hopefully the game gives you a second chance c;
> 
> I realize it's been exactly a month since I posted this! That wasn't on purpose; I was hoping to have this second chapter out a bit sooner, but life stuff happened (as it tends to!). I hope everything is going well for you guys, and that you're enjoying prime skeleton season as much as you can with everything!
> 
> Thank you all for commenting and letting me know you're into this; your comments are the lifeblood of writers! It means everything that you guys take the time to do that. If you guys keep digging this silly thing, then I'll keep sending it your way!


	3. Movement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans does some moving, and some not moving--both of which annoy you.

Hard as you tried, you couldn’t find Sans for the rest of the day. 

It was… unsettling. Why would the game program such an interaction? 

_I guess the game does have some keyword recognition after all_ — _it’s probably set up to recognize the word “trade,” as well as the villager names. Maybe Nintendo doesn’t want people to trade villagers. But… if that was the case, why would they allow for trading at all? It doesn’t make sense._

As you ran around the town—alternating between attempting to find Sans and finishing your daily tasks—you couldn’t shake the guilt that clung to you. Of course, it _was_ just a game, but… Jeeze. If this was Nintendo’s way of trying to bring back the “meaner” characters, they were going _hard_.

Just as you were selling an inventory full of fish to the raccoon twins, the thought hit you:

_Maybe they don’t want players treating the villagers like commodities quite so much. I guess people have been going pretty hard with the villager sales lately… This might be Nintendo’s message back to us._

Sans’s sentiment curled around you for the rest of the day. Even if it didn’t mean anything—even if it was just a piece of code calling you out—you _still_ didn’t want to be seen as “not a nice person.”

By nighttime, you’d given up on finding Sans. You stood outside his house, the lights dark—typically, either a sign that he wasn’t home or asleep. 

For no discernible reason, you got the crawling feeling that, instead, he was there—but just didn’t want to talk to you.

Even if it didn’t make a difference—even if it was just a piece of code—you felt you had to do _something_.

Standing under that clear, twinkling-star sky, you brought up the keyboard, typed a message, and sent it out to the night:

“Sorry, Sans.”

If nothing else, the words made you feel just a _little_ bit better.

Sans didn’t believe in sorry. 

If you _really_ were sorry, then…

 _well,_ he supposed, _i guess we’ll see if ya really mean it or not._

You awoke the next day, feeling only a _slight_ drag on your morning pep from the events of yesterday. Physically, you still felt pretty tired—but you had a bit of trouble sleeping with Sans’s words clanging around in your head, so that was no surprise.

Deviating from your normal pattern, you went through your physical morning routine first; if you thought about it ( _which you forced yourself not to)_ , you were clearly avoiding having to see Sans’s reaction to you. You knew you’d have to face the skeleton _eventually_ , but… probably better to do it with a full stomach and coffee in your veins.

Once your routine was fully complete, you dropped onto the couch, Switch in hand. You booted up the game, clicking through Isabelle’s dialogue—before her dialogue altered, sigaling she _actually_ had an announcement for the day.

“The moving of **Sans** ’s house is complete! What changes to the island will be made next, I wonder?”

You stared at the text, a dull horror taking over your stomach.

_Moving? Did Sans move out? What the fuck?! I thought they had to ask. He didn’t even give me a chance to apologize or say no or anything! Did I lose him? Nonono-_

You quickly sped past her introduction, button-mashing until the screen changed to you coming out of your house. You turned your character and began to ran, ready to book it to where Sans’s plot had been-

You didn’t have to move far.

Sans had indeed moved—but not off of the island. 

Now, sitting next to your house was _his_. 

_What the heck?!_

This… was _not_ how the game went. _You_ were the one who decided where the houses went, not the islanders! Everyone’s homes had been purposefully placed in two equal columns, keeping everything _nice and orderly and perfect._ And what was with that announcement? Isabelle never bothered announcing plot changes before! Anytime you moved someone’s home, it was as simple as going to Tom Nook, him asking if they wanted to change, and them saying yes! You had never heard of them going buckwild and moving houses all willy-nilly.

It looked like Sans wasn’t home—his house was dark—so you marched your character right over to the Town Hall. You _wanted_ to kick the damn chair over, but instead, watched as your player jumped jollily onto the tiny stool in front of Tom. 

You impatiently spammed the dialogue, moving through the text quickly—yes, you wanted to change the layout, _yes_ , of a resident home, _yes,_ Sans’s blasted house-

Tom warned you that you’d have to pay for the move. It seemed unfair—you weren’t the one who moved him in the first place!—but, for your perfect town, you’d sacrifice the bells.

As usual, Tom called Sans up, and a small cutscene appeared, poofing Sans into existence in the hall. Tom, as always, cheerily asked if Sans would be okay with moving his home-

“nah. no offense, but i’m not gonna move for someone i hardly know.”

The surprised exclamation point over Tom’s head mirrored your own. _Are you fucking kidding me?_

Tom turned to your character, giving a shrug. 

“Well well, I’m afraid that’s that. Why don’t you try again another time?”

The cutscene ended, and Sans was gone again, leaving you standing there alone as Tom went back to his idling position. You attempted to take a calming breath.

 _I cannot_ **_believe_ ** _this shit. Okay. Well, he said he wouldn’t move for someone he didn’t know. Maybe this is the game’s way of saying we don’t have a strong enough relationship yet..? Once I befriend him, maybe he’ll finally move._

You tapped the side of the switch thoughtfully, debating over your options.

_Well… I guess I might as well try. Even if I end up trading him off later, at the very least, it’ll be an opportunity to test out these new mechanics. I have to remember that I’m making Animal Crossing history here!_

_...Plus, if it helps me get my perfect town back, it’s worth it. Friendship, here I come._

You moved back outside, feeling _slightly_ more invigorated by this new sense of purpose. To your unexpected delight, Sans was wandering around just outside of his house—that certainly made things easier.

You approached him, tapping to initiate a conversation. He looked happy-go-lucky and at ease as the camera zoomed into him, his grin as wide as ever.

“hey, pal. how’s it going? 

>I wanna chat!  
>Nevermind.

You selected the first one. To your surprise, he turned to your house.

“ya like it? i thought if we were gonna be neighbors, we should be actual _neighbors._ ”

>No! I don’t like it! Move back!  
>Seems like a bit much...

It was a bit odd that they were both _‘no, I don’t like it_ ’ options. With a mental shrug, you selected the second, less-antagonistic option. 

“aw, c’mon, i don’t think that’s very _neighborly_ of you. i think this is gonna bring us _closer together_ ”

His character then winked at you before turning and wandering off. It was mildly unsettling. 

_Well,_ you thought, _I suppose that could’ve gone worse. At least he didn’t mention the trading thing_ — _maybe he doesn’t actively hate me anymore?_

Oh, how _wrong_ you were.

At first, it started off innocuous enough—for a few days, wherever you were, Sans would show up. You didn’t even notice it initially; too focused on going through your routine, you found it a pleasant enough surprise that Sans kept walking by (after all, you needed to get his relationship up—so the more chances to talk, the better).

But then it started to get more frequent: you’d go into the shop, and he’d be there, browsing the materials. You’d leave the shop, and he’d be outside, sitting at the cafe area you had set up next to the shop’s entrance. You’d run down to the beach—trying to catch more fish for a few extra bells—and he’d already be there, fishing away, a little music note above his head as he whistled a carefree tune. 

Whenever you’d chat with him, the content of his speech would be completely innocent—it was the same dull idle chatter the other villagers had, with no hint of his weird personality that you’d seen before. If you were more paranoid, you would’ve wondered if he was doing it on purpose, as an act.

By the third day, _just_ as it was starting to tip past the line into creepy territory—it took a turn for the _annoying_.

That morning, you booted up your Switch, sped by Isabelle’s lack of announcements, and watched as your character opened the door-

And Sans was sitting just outside.

This was par for the course for the last few days—it’d gotten to the point he was just about constantly on screen with you—except this time, he was blocking your exit.

His character was playing a snoozing animation, sockets closed and small “z”’s floating above his head. You attempted to wiggle your character around him—but no luck.

You tried to talk to him, but all that popped up was a small speech bubble going “...”

Taking a deep breath, you turned back inside your house. _Maybe I’ll wait a bit, and he’ll be gone,_ you thought.

You waited about five minutes, taking the time to do some organization of your house’s storage. You walked back outside.

He was still there, dozing away.

You went back inside, taking out some unused items you figured you might as well gift away to some other villagers.

Five minutes later, he was still there.

You went back inside your house, flicking through your music catalogue, changing the channel between KK’s various tunes.

Another five minutes, _and still there what the fuck Sans_.

 _Fine_ , you thought, _I’ll spend some time rearranging my house. I guess I’m due for a new layout._

About fifteen minutes passed. You were just in the middle of rearranging your kitchen—stuff out of sorts—when your character paused, and the screen cut back to your main room.

“heya, neighbor, hope ya don’t mind if i pay a visit.”

It was Sans.

_I thought they only visited in the last game? Guess that’s another new feature to note down._

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you went to start putting your furniture back into place—but a window popped up.

_“It’s rude to move furniture when you have guests over!”_

You felt your head throb.

 _Fine! Fine._ **_Fine_** _. At least he’s not sleeping in front of the door anymore. I guess I can head out now._

Your character moved through the kitchen (glad you hadn’t accidentally blocked yourself in while you were arranging things), and into the living room, where Sans was standing. Moving past him, you went to leave-

A dialogue box from Sans popped up, stopping you. 

“what? don’t i get a house tour?”

In the real world, you let out a string of expletives. In the game, you merely moved off to one of your side rooms, him following close behind. You couldn’t say your house was perfect, yet—that had taken a back seat as you focused on decorating the rest of your island—so you weren’t particularly keen to show off most of your house. 

You quickly tapped on Sans as he entered each room, rapidly flicking past the dialogue as he commented on a random item—the writing desk you had in your study in the right room, the clawed-foot bathtub in the bathroom on the left, the jukebox you had in your 50’s-diner-style kitchen, and the crystal ball you had in your vaguely spooky basement. 

All of the comments were standard, boring ones the villagers tended to make. For some reason, you were slightly disappointed.

The final room left was the sole room you felt proud of: your bedroom, upstairs. 

You had gone to particularly intensive lengths to get your bedroom sorted. For whatever reason—despite waiting day in and day out—you had never once had a meteor shower. As such, you’d had to desperately search online for those benevolent enough to allow you to join on their meteor shower days, make your wishes, and return to pick up some fallen stars the next day. You’d done it again, and again, and again—until you’d gotten every last recipe you could, and enough star fragments to make the ones you wanted for your room.

As you ascended the stairs, you remembered that it was actually time to go searching again—your birthday was coming up, and you’d yet to get the specific fragments for your starsign’s item. You tapped distractedly on the joycons as the screen faded to black, then opened back up to your bedroom, your focus centered on how you were going to find someone now that you were suspended from the forums...

The camera, to your surprise, cut to Sans, a dialogue box popping up without you prompting it.

“wow. nice room.”

The camera then zoomed out, conversation ended. You blinked, confused for a moment, before your mind reeled.

_Wait, is this the game’s way of telling me these are the types of items Sans likes? Is it the blue and yellow colors? The space theme? Or is it just because this room is my highest-scoring room with the housing authority?_

Excited, you made a mental note to _definitely_ find someone soon to get star pieces from. It’d be a _lot_ of effort, but if you had found the type of gift Sans liked best, maybe you could _finally_ make some headway with him!

You tapped on Sans to initiate some dialogue. The camera zoomed back in. 

“this room is really _out of this world_.”

_Was… that a pun?_

He then winked at you. 

“what? why such a _sirius_ face?”

 _Oh my god he’s definitely punning_.

You groan-laughed aloud, hand going to your face—though you felt the laughter was more surprise than anything else. Another bit of dialogue popped up from him, a small sweatdrop appearing on his forehead.

“jeeze, tough audience. not even a smile?”

>No, please stop.  
>I am and I hate it.

You stared at the options. Again, it seemed weird that they were both negative options—as much as you agreed with them, you would’ve preferred to lie and said it was actually funny, to get on his good side. Internally shrugging, you picked the second option, deciding that was the slightly more positive of the two.

Sans’s character model—for a brief second—paused in it’s ever-constant swaying. It happened so fast, you weren’t sure if your eyes deceived you, or if your Switch just lagged for a moment. Then he spoke again:

“heh. well, seems like that’s the end of the tour. guess i oughta get going.”

You internally cheered, glad that this was finally over with, and that you could start your day. Instead of zooming out again, though, the camera was still on him—and he winked once more.

“your moving around furniture was interrupting my sleep, so now i gotta catch up on my nap. see ya around, kid.”

Sans walked downstairs, disappearing out of view as you stared after him, confused.

_What? Catch up on his…? OH FOR NOOKSSAKE HE BETTER NOT-_

You ran downstairs, and out the front door-

And Sans was sitting there again, back asleep just in front of your entrance. 

You nearly threw your Switch, letting out a frustrated, defeated moan.

_I got shit to do! C’mon, you stupid…_

Desperate, you grabbed your phone, bringing up the Nintendo app, then the typing feature, before quickly typing out a series of messages

“For the love that is holy,

“I’m begging you.

“Please, Sans, move.”

Putting down your phone, you heaved a sigh, ready to turn your player around to go back into the house _yet again_ -

But the camera cut to Sans again. His character startled awake, sockets blinking open, before he looked at you.

“what’s that? ya want me to **move**? well, why didn’t ya just say so?”

With that, he stood up and walked off, hands in his pockets as he whistled a jaunty tune.

You stared after him in disbelief, your surging _anger_ overwhelming any curiosity that he’d responded to another key word.

_Don’t hit him with your net. Don’t do it. Focus on the NMT. You got this. You can take this. That’s the worst he’s got? Then fine. It’s fine._

As you would soon find out, it was _not_ fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> I hope you like this chapter! I feel like we're starting to finally get some movement into the strangeness, so I'm super excited!
> 
> As always, let me know if you guys like it, and if you wanna keep reading! Comments are my lifeblood, so thank you so much to those who take time out of their day to do so. And thank you for reading! It means a lot to know that people are into this as much as I am :)  
> Love you guys! More soon!


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